


hear it in the silence

by welcometonerdworld



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 3+1 fic, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, M/M, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcometonerdworld/pseuds/welcometonerdworld
Summary: In which Jack Zimmermann suffers from denial re: his feelings about one Eric Bittle. Or; three times Jack nearly kisses Bitty, and one time he actually does.(For 'Swawesome Santa 2016!)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronanlynchisneversleepingagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronanlynchisneversleepingagain/gifts).



> for ronanlynchisneversleepingagain, as part of the 'swawesome santa gift exchange! hope you have a great holiday (sorry about the lateness of this btw!) and that you enjoy this super fluffy fic :)

i.

Jack isn’t sure if he’s ever going to recover from this. He’d like to think that his impulse control is pretty good, actually, when it comes to sex, but – this is different.

Bittle is different.

And maybe it’s because it’s because of how he’s swinging his hips to the music, or how the lyrics of this song (whatever the hell it is, Jack has no idea) are way too raunchy for your average college party, but Jack can’t help but feel attracted to Bittle at that moment.

 _Seriously_ attracted. Like, he’d known Bittle was cute – he’s not really a robot, after all – but he’d never really connected that to the concept of Bittle being sexy. Which he is. Very.

Slowly, Jack rakes his eyes up and down Bittle’s form from his spot just off the makeshift dancefloor. He studies Bittle’s sweat-shiny hair and obscenely short shorts; knows that he probably isn’t being subtle enough, but then again, no one seems to be looking at him.

Then, he locks eyes with Bittle.

Bittle _winks_. Jack almost drops his drink – almost. Instead, he takes a shaky breath and tries for a smile. Watches in half awe, half dismay as Bittle practically struts over to him, still appealing as hell even though he can’t walk in a straight line.

“Jack!” Bittle shouts over the music. His face is lit up like Jack’s his entire world and in that moment, Bittle is his.

“Hey, Bittle,” Jack says. _Keep it cool, Zimmermann._ “Too much tub juice?”

Bittle laughs, tipping his head back so that the disco lights spinning around the room highlight his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. “Never,” he replies, and grabs one of Jack’s clammy hands. “Dance with me?”

Jack knows he should say no because being in close proximity to Bittle is painful enough like this, let alone if they’re grinding up against each other. He’s supposed to say no because he’s older and his anxiety always gets the better of him and because he’s the captain and Bittle won’t even remember any of this the next morning –

Bittle bats his eyelashes and Jack is a fucking goner.

“Okay, but only one song,” Jack concedes. Bittle tugs on his hand, grinning, and Jack is dragged through the pulsating crowd right to the centre of the room. He finishes his drink and lets the cup roll off somewhere on the floor before turning to Bittle.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” Jack admits, lowering his head to Bittle’s ear. Bittle shivers and Jack wonders if he’s just cold or if he’s attracted to him too – not that he can do anything about it.

“That’s okay!” Bittle takes his hands and swings them to the beat of the music. Jack is very much aware that he must look like a prized idiot, clutching at the hands of the first man he has been attracted to in a long, long time. _Still_ , he thinks, as Bittle steps a little closer, _maybe looking like an idiot isn’t such a bad thing_.

* * *

 

ii.

Of all the places to put up some mistletoe, Jack has to wonder why the hell Holster would have picked the doorway to the laundry room.

 _Probably for this exact situation_ , he decides as he studies Bittle’s panicked face.

“We don’t – uh – I know you aren’t –“ Bittle starts, blushing furiously. Jack wants to tell him that he really _does_ want to kiss him, that he _isn’t_ straight and that Bittle’s big, brown eyes actually affect him _a lot_ –

“Okay,” Jack says, “Gotta tell Holster to put it in a less narrow place, eh?”

“Haha.” It’s the most unenthusiastic laugh that has ever come out of Eric Bittle’s mouth and Jack can’t stand it.

He also can’t stand the fact that there’s only a few inches between Bittle’s face and his, and that Bittle is chewing on his lip, and that this would be the most perfect excuse to kiss him and just get whatever pent up attraction he has for Bittle out of the way.

“I’ll just get my laundry then!” Bittle says, and he moves away, going over to the tumble dryer. Jack stares at his back as Bittle continues, “Gotta finish up before packing, right?”

“Yeah, me too,” Jack says, snapping out of his daydream. As he helps Bittle sort through the laundry, he can’t help but think that he’s just lost another opportunity.

* * *

 

iii.

Visiting Bittle in Madison is simultaneously the best and worst experience of Jack’s life. The best because, obviously, Jack has been waiting for what feels like a thousand years to see Bittle again since graduation. Then again, the amount of restraint it takes for him not to act like Bittle’s boyfriend around his parents is _excruciating_.

He’s sitting on the couch, watching a football game with Coach as Bittle had instructed: “The way to my father’s heart is football.” It’s kind of interesting, looking at another sport that he has never really bothered with, and Jack’s trying to think of an intelligent question to ask when Bittle calls over from the kitchen.

“Jack, honey, will you help me with these cherries?”

Jack side-eyes Coach, firstly because he’s very aware of Bittle’s use of the pet name, but also because he doesn’t want to be rude.

Coach chuckles and nods to him. “You’d better go on over there, son. That boy is more demanding than his mama when it comes to baking.”

Jack returns his smile and pushes himself off the couch, heading for the kitchen where he finds Bittle rolling out pastry and humming a song that Jack suspects is Beyoncé. He’s wearing a pair of shorts that make his legs look like they go on and on for miles, and a bright blue tank top that was clearly purchased long before Bittle had started to gain muscle for hockey.

Bittle twists around and waves Jack over, a movement that makes his biceps stand out. Jack is definitely staring in a way that cannot be construed as platonic whatsoever, his gaze flickering between the expanse of skin below the hem of Bittle’s shorts and his lips.

“Jack?”

_Oops._

Jack blinks, “Sorry, um. Distracted.” He starts to take the seeds out of the cherries, deliberately standing a little away from Bittle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spots Bittle’s smirk. “Huh. I’m guessing that’s not because of the football game?”

Jack shrugs, “It’s okay. Not my favourite, obviously, but –“

He stops as Bittle’s smirk disappears and he looks around furtively. Jack is about to ask what happened when, faster than he can even comprehend, Bittle stands on his tiptoes to drop a kiss onto Jack’s jaw.

He groans; Bittle laughs in triumph.

“Thanks for being here, Jack,” he says, and he sounds so happy that every concept of a chirp in Jack’s head evaporates.

“Thank you for having me, Bits.”

* * *

 

+i.

Winter has hit Providence with full force even though it’s barely November, and Jack can tell that Bittle isn’t loving it. They’re walking to Jack’s favourite restaurant, a place that does really good pad thai, and Bittle’s face is practically buried in his scarf – although he’s dressed from head-to-toe in Falconers merchandise and a very puffy jacket, he’s seemingly frozen.

“Bits. You okay?”

“Let’s just get to the restaurant, Jack, I’ll be fine!” Bittle says, even as his teeth begin to chatter.

Jack frowns and starts to unzip his coat. “Jack! Honestly,” Bittle shakes his head rapidly from side to side, “You’ll freeze to death.”

He looks at Bittle’s ‘don’t-you-dare-Mr.-Zimmermann’ expression and relents, instead throwing an arm around Bittle’s shoulder and pulling him in close. “What did I say about layering, eh?”

“ _I_ trusted _you_ when you said it wasn’t gonna be that cold! Clearly I forgot about your wild Canadian tendencies –“

Jack throws his head back and laughs, “It’s still about eight degrees, Bits.”

“I don’t even know what that is in Fahrenheit, but it sounds ridiculous...”

The chirping continues back and forth all the way to the restaurant, where Bittle moans in delight over the toasty atmosphere compared to the “harsh outdoors”. It’s an argument they’ve had so many times before but what’s nice about this particular occasion is that it is the first time they have been on a date, like this, since Jack came out publically.

 _Yeah_.

It’s a big deal, not only to Jack, who finally feels like everything in his life – his relationship, his family, his hockey career, his friends – is going well. _Better than that_ , he thinks, _so much better_. It’s also a huge deal for Bitty, who recently came out to his parents and is now in his senior year at Samwell.

The pair of them sit at a small window table, sharing several dishes and discussing the upcoming winter break. It’s the first time that Bitty will be going up for Christmas with Jack’s family, and he’s obviously nervous, which is dumb because “my parents love you, Bittle. Honestly, they ask about you every time we talk.”

“Yeah, but,” Bittle fiddles with his chopsticks and looks at Jack, “I don’t want to – impose.”

“Bits,” Jack sighs, scooting his chair around the table. He’s glad that it’s round because it means it’s easy for him to put a hand over Bitty’s, to speak in low tones so no one else can hear.

“We’ve been together for _years_ , Bits. Maman and Papa, they adore you. For them – for me – you’re not just my boyfriend. You’re family.”

To Jack’s horror, Bittle’s eyes start to well up.

“Bits, Bitty. Are you okay? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, we can go to your parents instead or –“

Jack is cut off as two strong arms are thrown around his neck. Bittle squeezes him and Jack takes it as a sign to hug him back, and he does, stroking Bittle’s hair in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture.

“I love you, Jack Zimmermann,” Bittle mutters into his ear, “Sorry for being silly, I just –“

“I know,” Jack says. “I love you too, Bits.”

They break apart and Bittle announces that Jack must still be starving since he’s on a hockey player’s diet. Bittle dabs at his eyes with his napkin and is about to start eating again when Jack speaks.

“Hey, Bits.”

Bittle looks up. “Huh?”

Jack studies his face, his still-watery eyes and pink nose. Leans in, and drops a kiss onto Bittle’s mouth that is returned with fervour. It’s chaste, though – they are in public, after all – but Jack hopes (knows, even) that it’s the first of many kisses that he will no longer hesitate to give.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed, pls leave a comment/kudos :)


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